Patrimony and privatisation

Europe's cultural chieftains must overcome their fear of the private sector

PRIVATISATION is a dirty word for those in charge of Europe's cultural institutions. Earlier this year the then French minister of culture, Catherine Tasca, and Henri Loyrette, head of the Louvre, engaged in a spat in the pages of Le Monde over the management of France's biggest museum. It culminated in Ms Tasca accusing Mr Loyrette of demanding ever more autonomy from the state and of even flirting with, shock horror, the idea of privatising the Louvre.

Plans by the Italian government to privatise part of the country's cultural heritage have caused even more indignation among the great and the good. Silvio Berlusconi and his ministers are accused of being little better than the Taliban when they destroyed priceless buddhas. The government is plotting to sell the Colosseum, it was claimed, which might be used to stage a sequel to “Gladiator”. Italy, the critics averred, was in danger of becoming a Disneyland of western culture.

In an ideal world for cultural purists, a country's heritage should be untouched by commercial considerations (ie, the demands of the public). Museums would have lots of public money, sufficient space to expose most of their treasures and enough staff to look after them. Museum managers could focus solely on complementing collections by new acquisitions and on hiring the most expert curators. All of this would be generously financed by taxpayers—and nobody would need to ask them what they thought or wanted.

In reality, Europe's cultural institutions are being belatedly forced to swallow their pride and think about such vulgar concepts as profits and customers. Many are in dire financial straits, as cash-strapped governments cut subsidies. The Louvre, once fully funded by the state, today gets only 70% of its $110m annual budget. This year Mr Loyrette has had to cut his conservation budget by a quarter, cancel exhibitions and shut 26% of his galleries due to a lack of staff. The Uffizi in Florence is so broke it cannot pay its electricity bill.

European museums have managed pitifully badly when it comes to finding alternative sources of cash. Their shops are often poorly stocked, their fund-raising teams small and inexperienced. Most still shy away from naming parts of their buildings after generous benefactors. And state interference remains heavy-handed. Although Jean-Jacques Aillagon, France's new culture minister, has come out in favour of a plan for more independence for national museums, he insisted that this was not about privatisation, but responsibility.

Italy's government has come up with a bold plan to ease the cultural establishments' cash crisis by setting up a new state agency to manage and market Italy's cultural treasures (see article). Patrimonio dello Stato will not privatise museums or sell important archaeological sites. It will, however, let private companies manage the daily operations of museums for a limited period, securitise the entrance fees for certain cultural sites (without allowing majority ownership) and sell relatively minor landmarks. “The Italian state simply doesn't have sufficient resources to manage its cultural patrimony,” says Giuliano Urbani, the minister for culture.

All European governments will eventually have to follow suit, by entering into some form of partnership with the private sector to run their museums. Regulated and supervised properly, this might even raise standards, for instance by improving educational activities or the use of audio-visual technology. Most of America's cultural institutions are privately run and get little cash from, or interference by, the federal government. Despite (or because of) this, they still manage to be among the best in the world. European museums should not be shy to seek freedom of their own. It will be Europe's loss if its hallowed museum halls remain partly shut and badly run, all because they are unable to let go of their nanny.